


Exes and Ohs

by kay_celestine



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_celestine/pseuds/kay_celestine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew the saying, how it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. He hated it with a passion. The one thing he never understood was why he was miserable, when everyone else around him had their happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exes and Ohs

Exes and Ohs

by. KayCelestine

.

Prologue:

.x Memories x.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All of my memories keep you near  
In silent moments,  
Imagining you here...

Together in all these memories,  
I see your smile.  
All of the memories I hold dear.  
Darling you know I'll love you,  
Til the end of time.

\- "Memories", Within Temptation

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Present Day

He couldn't forget her, no matter how hard he had tried. She rested on his thoughts day and night, consuming his very being. The more he tried to resist, the greater she would become, till the constant tug-of-war at his heartstrings proved too much and he gave up. He hadn't meant to fall in love with her, just to help her. That's all it was, an act of good will. But yet, that act of good will had turned against him. His intentions grew from helpful to love. He never tried to stop it, after all, how could he have known the turn it would take? It had happened so fast... he was sure Aphrodite was out for blood when she did it. Nothing good could have ever come out of it. Nothing good ever did come out of it. For a while, it seemed, things were going his way. Life had suddenly taken on a new meaning. But... that was his mistake, nothing is ever really that happy. Not for him anyway. There was always a catch, or a flaw. History had proven that time and time again. But, he didn't want to believe it. For once in his life, he wanted to embrace it... just for once. Was that too much to ask? Yes, apparently it was.

If heartache was company, Apollo would never be alone. It was with him at all times, when he woke, when we slept, when he laughed, when he smiled. Heartache wasn't just company, it was like oxygen for him. He breathed it at every moment. He had grown so accustomed to it, that the dull pain had just become a part of him, as natural to him as breathing. It just always was. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt free, that he had felt truly happy. The pain was etched so deep, it provided no clue to the life it once held. He was shrouded, covered in his own lies and denial - until it became a mask for him. He wore it dutifully, hiding any trace of his emotions. But somewhere along the way, it was no longer a mask, it had become him - it was him. But no one knew... no one ever did. They never cared, never wanted to know. And he was fine with that. The less interference, the better it would be to cope. No one to try and cheer him up - to try and tell him how he was feeling, how he was coping, or not, for that matter. Peace - he would have it, no matter the cost.

Apollo trudged along, his company the empty park. He strode silently through the snow, cursing under his breath. The snowflakes fell to the ground softly, surrounded him like a blanket. He hated it. He hated everything about it - the snow, the cold, the darkness, the silence. It was just there, taunting him, mocking him and he hated it. He had always hated winter, it was natural. He was the sun god; sunlight, brightness, and heat were all his forte - his life sources, if you may. Yet here he was, surrounded by everything opposite of him. Winter was Artemis' turf, her specialty. Apollo stumbled slightly in the snow, and proceeded to curse some more, this time at Hades. This was after all, his fault. Stupid lust... not even love, lust. Immediately Apollo felt the lump form in his throat. That's what she had said when he had asked her opinion on the matter. She laughed, her brown hair flowing around her as she openly mocked the situation. That was her - lively, bright, and unafraid.

He stopped, allowing the memory to wash through him; he knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn't help it. He never could. Letting go was never his strong suit. Next to Zeus and Hera, he probably had the most pride out of all the gods. It was natural; being a god, he was used to having his own way. He was Apollo. Fuck, Poseidon - he was definitely more rebellious than the sea god. He had done whatever he wanted, when he wanted. If it wasn't for his mother's pleading, he would be in Tartarus right now, not an empty Central Park. Gods know that Zeus was poised to send him every time. His actions had warranted it, but yet he got off every time. He was spoiled... that was a fact. A fact that hadn't changed within the past thousand years.

It was her who had led him here... her memory. He hadn't meant to remember her, he had been trying not to. That's why he had chosen the destination he had - a noisy, bustling mall. The noise was supposed to distract him, and it had been working. The plan was to become to consumed in making through the halls in one piece, that his mind had no time to wander. Despite it being winter, he had decided to take a stroll in New York. He was tired, exhausted from being cooped up in Olympus so long. So against himself, he decided he should get out and explore. Plus, Christmas was just around the corner. Mortals pushed past him, rushing to finish their last minute shopping. That had always annoyed him... how the mortals procrastinated so viciously. For Zeus's sake, they had an entire season to prepare. Yet, every year here they were, pushing and shuffling to finish what they should have months ago. Despite this, Christmas had always been his favorite mortal holiday. It amused him, the idea of this man shuffling through chimneys' to give children presents. Saint Nick they called him. He couldn't help but inwardly chuckle as he remembered the origins of Nick. Oh Hermes, look what you started, he thought amused to himself.

Artemis hated Christmas; in her mind, it was a senseless holiday that did nothing but insert false hopes into the unsuspecting children. She hated it even more that is was in her season. The way she figured, the children were only being set up for the letdown. Apollo thought differently; he loved the idea of hope that it brought. The way people went out their way for others during this holiday. Not to mention the comical aspect of it. The parents telling their children to be good or Santa won't bring them any presents never ceased to bring a smile to his face. The really funny part however, was how no matter who this was said to, or what the child was doing, they would instantly freeze. And from that point on, they would be nothing short of angels. That was his favorite part. Artemis would always scoff and look at him in disdain and then proceed to tell him how if he liked it so much, he should make it a summer holiday. But as much as he hated winter, he agreed that Christmas, just wouldn't be Christmas without the annoying cold or the pestering snowflakes. That's why he had always preferred to celebrate Christmas in the more tropical places. Not the typical "White Christmas" but it was warm, and he'd just have to make do.

It was one of those misbehaving children that brought back the memories. Forgetting her, even for a moment, was a near impossible task. Remembering her on the other hand, was as easy as making a dozen bulls eyes at a close range. He was forgetting, his mind focused on the crowd, rather than the person. But then he saw it. It was a little raven haired boy about two or three years old. He had been with his mother, a fairly young person herself. He threw himself on the floor, much to the chagrin of the passerby's', blocking them and potentially endangering himself. He wailed and thrashed and screamed, his mother frantically begging him to behave, or at least stand up. That was all. He stood there watching, the harsh nudges of the rushing buyers oblivious to him. Just watching as the situation unfolded before him. Just like that, he remembered, and just like that, he rather wished he hadn't.

Apollo kicked the snow angrily. Five days. Five fucking days. Five days in all, that's how long it had lasted. It took five days to fall in love with her, and ten years to try and forget her. In five days he been to hell and back. In five days his heart had been bursting and then torn - shredded, calloused. In four days he had been in heaven... and on the fifth day, in hell. The days were scattered like leaves, their meetings unpredictable and at the worst [or best, depending on the views] possible times. Personally, he had thought they for most part, were on good days. Days that made them connect, rather than every day situations. He had always, minus one occasion, found her at her worst, and that had always seemed like a blessing, a chance to help her. To love her. And for her to love him back.

Ten years he tried and tried to forget her. But even so, in ten years, he never could. He made his mask and wore it. Choosing to hide the aching pain tearing at his soul by trying to find a replacement. He'd gone from lover to lover and not one of them had replaced the emptiness in his heart. He had tried, gods know he had tried to let go. As much as it was unlike him to do so, he tried. For her sake, and his. It was ridiculous, to feel this way for someone who probably never felt even a fraction of what he felt for her, for him. In fact, he wasn't sure if she had ever truly known the depth of how he felt. Exactly how much he had loved her. It wouldn't have surprised him if she didn't. She did, however, know that he had feelings towards her. But most likely had dismissed them, using them as an outlet she desperately needed, rather than a prospect of eternal happiness. He couldn't blame her for not trusting him, she had been the victim of loves gone wrong. She was guarded; for herself and for her son.

Her son... He almost didn't recognize him when he first saw him again. Almost... If he had been even a bit more unobservant, he would have missed the older boy that had been in front of him. He was different obviously; no longer the little boy who had been screaming his lungs off in Central Park. Spawn of the devil he had called him. But who could blame him? The child was loud enough to wake the dead. Hell, he was sure even those in the dark depths of Tartarus had heard him wailing. Then again, to the child and his mother's defense, they had somewhat secluded themselves from everyone. Distanced themselves far enough so that they wouldn't have bothered anyone. In a way, it was his own fault that he had found them. His own fault... Sometimes he wished he could just play that moment all over again; prevent it from ever happening. He knew the saying, how it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Gods know he knew it. But frankly, he thought it was complete and utter bullshit. Whoever had said that couldn't have possibly loved. How could they? Did they not feel the emptiness in their hearts? The aching feeling of loneliness? Or the envy over your lost love, when everyone else had their happy ending? Or was the person who said that referring to a deceased lover? If so, then that was a different story. A story that had no place with him.

When everything had gone sour, he was at lost. For days he sat by himself, just staring, wondering, mourning. Anger rushed through him, his pride had been injured - mutilated. But he couldn't do anything to her - to her. Granted her son was off limits, but other things weren't. He was about to make her life a turmoil, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had loved before, harder than most gods. But he had never loved like this. There was no way he could do anything to cause her pain, so he just decided to take it out on everyone else. He wonder if she knew that the at the time recent catastrophic events were from him. Most likely... she was a bright woman. She definitely knew. But while remorseful that it was all because of her, she couldn't just abandon everything and go back. She wouldn't have been happy. And that just pissed him off more.

As the turmoil continued, Aphrodite had found out. He never did tell her the specifics, but she knew. She was the goddess of love; he didn't have to tell her, she saw it written clearly on his face. She saw it in his actions, his manners. She might as well have been reading a book. He hadn't sought her out, but gods know he wanted to. He wanted anything to have his love in his arms... anything. Even if it meant selling his soul to Aphrodite. Eventually, he caved. He had to ask her, he just had to. So he did. He had asked her to make his love stay with him. To make her feelings intensify to match his... to make her his own. She was notorious for sticking her nose into others love lives and not to mention, for the right price, granted them their deepest desires. But for the first time in his life, he saw saw fear of Aphrodite's face. Aphrodite... the gossip of Olympus, the most meddlesome goddess alive, was afraid. Afraid of what he would do, that his obsession was unhealthy. You're not in love, you're obsessed, she had told him. But beneath the fear, was amusement. This was her love story of the century, millennium probably.

Everything was set. Everything in place. Aphrodite hadn't outright granted him his wish, she still wanted to make sure she had her love story. But of course, nothing every went his way. As soon as it was to be set in motion, Hera had popped her heinous head into the situation. She was afraid of his behavior, yes, but the fact that his love was married, had been enough to cover her fear. Never, this shall not happen as long as I am Queen of Heaven. And that was it, it was final. Hell hath no fury than when Apollo heard the words come out of her mouth. How dare you? he had yelled. He was livid.

Everyone on Olympus knew something was wrong. That much was obvious. They also knew that it had something to do with love. But no one had dared tried to talk to him. It was Aphrodite's turf... and the fact that Hera had made it her business, just made the situation worse. He knew why they feared involvement... even his father's. While Zeus wanted to stand, and eventually did, by his wife's side, it was a dangerous thing. Yes, Zeus was the strongest and unchallenged, but Apollo was the most reckless and cunning. Not to mention the favorite of Poseidon. Apollo knew he had a notorious temper and a flair for envy. No one was above his behavior, not even his own sister. After Orion, everyone knew he was serious. His facade of stupidity was brought to light and no one dared draw it out. The last thing they wanted was his vengeance. They knew he was no fool... far from it.

Athena may be the wisest, but Apollo was the snake. He had tricked his own sister easily - the very same sister that was as perceptive as Athena herself. Trickery was not Hermes, it was his. Along with envy, pride, and rebellion. Apollo was no angel, his past actions had proved that. He was the worst, most likely, easily betraying trusts for his own means. Artemis would have never thought he would have done something like that - he was her brother, her twin. She trusted him with her life. But he had, and not with one once of remorse following. Pride was his helmet, envy his belt, rebellion his breastplate, obsession his arch, and trickery his bow. Most people forgot - but they remembered, usually too late.

His sister... Many nights he wondered why she didn't hate him. How could she not? He had tricked her into killing the one person she would probably ever love. If it were him, he would have been out for blood. He still hated Hera for her interference. But she hadn't been. That was what had calmed him in the end, his sister. If she could handle it, maybe he could. Not likely, he was more rash, but for his sister, he tried. He knew though, he saw, the gleam of justice and happiness in her eyes when Zeus decided the final verdict. It was her revenge. He knew she had never held it against him, wanting to forget, rather than dwell. But it was only natural when he was left broken like her, for her to feel some sort of happiness. She tried to help him though, because of how much it hurt him, but she would never give it her all. As much as she didn't want to withhold, her emotions were not letting him go that easily. He understood... he had not expected anything less.

And then that was it. The decision made, all Apollo could do was watch. Watch as her life moved on, and tried to mimic hers just a bit. He just wanted a bit of peace from the whole ordeal. Peace, he was going to have it, no matter the cost. But yet, years had passed, and he never got it. No matter what he tried, he just never could. And little by little, his mask took mold and hardened and he lived his lie like it was only natural. But he never forgot. The mask had cracks, not visible for people, but visible for him. He felt it, the cold feeling of exposure, the feeling that would never truly go away. There was only one way to get over it, and that was to take off the mask. But he would never do it. He would brave the cracks, for he knew he could never handle the torrent. Never. And if he could, he wasn't willing, not yet.

Apollo looked up, surveying the empty park. It had taken him quite some time to get here, but he had arrived. The place were it all started... the beginning of it all. The beginning of his love... and the ending of everything as he knew it.


End file.
